Call it what you want

Once again Sam's fingers on his skin suggested a sense of confidence that the red-head did not seem capable of. As he studied Remi's face—or more accurately his neck—the alchemist could feel his heartbeat racing as his mind tried to scream over the fog that the ascended had placed him in, trying to claw its way back to rationality. This wasn't him, and he didn't even know Sam, and he wasn't normally— —but then Sam was saying something and the instant his lips pressed against Remi's neck all conscious thought immediately dissolved. That really should have been Remi's first clue that what was occurring was not simply feelings between the two men, but of course it wasn't. The euphoria that overloaded Remi's senses was a welcomed balm to the man's battered and broken mind. All that had happened to him lately hadn't dissolved his sense of right and wrong, but somehow this had. This cave, this darkness, this man and his touch that was like a panacea to all that plagued the poor alchemist. He was helpless to resist it, and so he didn't. His hands working all on their own, they roamed the contours of Sam's back, pulling him closer to try and eliminate all the space between their two bodies. His lips parted and again he moaned, although this time the sound was less tentative and more frantic. Turning his face towards the ascended to graze his cheek against the side of the man's head—for in this position it was all he could do, really—Remi could feel his eyes rolling back and upwards into his skull as the sensation swamped any coherent thought. His warm and strong hands moved and caressed and pulled at the man before him, wanting more. Needing more. REMI Traded my soul to free my mind, "can I go back to being blind?" I ask myself one too many times